


where we've been is who we are

by amemorymaze



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, badboy! blaine, skank! kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amemorymaze/pseuds/amemorymaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which kurt and blaine are in a band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where we've been is who we are

**now.**

The rolling of the wheels against the sidewalk is what Kurt notices first, before the voice.

“Leaving without me?”

He doesn’t bother to slow his pace, just waits for the boy to catch up with him. Which he does with a grasp of Kurt’s shoulders, a thump and a dropped cigarette. But Kurt just huffs out a sigh and tries not to get too distracted by the warmth of the body pressed up against his back.

“Fuck off, Anderson,” Kurt spits out in mock annoyance - the shadow of a smile on his lips.

Blaine just laughs as he jumps off his skateboard so he can walk at the same pace as Kurt, “Am I still coming to yours tonight?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

Rolling his eyes Blaine slips a hand into the back pocket of Kurt’s jeans, “You know what I mean. Do you still want me there?”

Kurt steps closer into the arm around him as they walk down the street and says, “Of course.”

There’s a brief silence as Blaine smiles at Kurt’s words before changing the topic, “How did the test go?”

Shrugging, Kurt makes a so-so gesture with his hand, “Average. Nothing too hard. Nothing I couldn’t answer. I’m just so glad it’s finally the weekend - this weeks seems to have dragged so much. Not that you would know, what with you skipping or sleeping through all your lessons. How you’ve still got a decent GPA amazes me.”

Laughing at Kurt’s comment, Blaine just shrugs his shoulders before handing his skateboard to Kurt so he can get his cigarettes out of his backpack saying, “You excited for tonight?” Placing a cigarette between his lips Blaine mumbles, “Lighter?”

Rolling his eyes, Kurt gets his own lighter out of his pocket and lights the end of the cigarette in Blaine’s mouth - the end glowing as Blaine inhales, “And to answer to question, of course I am. it’s our first gig in weeks. Let me do your eyeliner?”

“Don’t I always?” Blaine replies, a twinkle in his eye.

 

 

 

 

**then.**

The first time they met was due to cancelled plans, a spare ticket and desperation.

“Come on Q,” Kurt had said, arms crossed as he glared at Quinn, “You can’t cancel on me _now._ ”

“Look, Kurt, my mom found my cigarettes. She’s picking me up from school, she won’t let me leave our god damn house.”

“So sneak out, that’s what you usually do,” Kurt said like it’s the most obvious solution.

Quinn had just sighed and lit a cigarette, “I want to go, Kurt, you know I do, but it’s practically impossible for me. We can’t all have the perfect parents like you.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes in annoyance, “Fuck you, Fabray.”

“Seriously,” she’d said, “It’s just a fucking concert.”

“It’s fucking Bright Eyes, Q. We’ve had planned for months and it’s tomorrow night and you’re telling me now that you can’t go. How the fuck am I supposed to find someone else to go with? My dad won’t let me drive all the way to Columbus on my own.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t have any other friends.”

Kurts laughed humourlessly, “Like I’d wanna be friends with anyone at this goddamn fucking school,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “whatever, Quinn. Have fun playing the perfect daughter tomorrow night.”

Quinn rolled her eyes at Kurt as he stalked away, no doubt to skip whatever class he had next and mope about with a cigarette in his mouth.

But when Quinn had found Kurt exactly where she had expected later that day, they quickly forget the argument they had had - both pretending it had never happened the moment Quinn gave Kurt a mobile number, an address and a time- and reminded him that she had never let him down before and doesn’t plan to start now.

 

 

 

 

**now.**

The two boys are sitting on Kurt’s bed, Blaine watching Kurt, who’s tongue is poking out of his mouth in concentration with pink and blue strands of hair falling into his eyes as he tries to get the eyeliner around Blaine’s eye absolutely perfect.

“Almost done,” Kurt says softly as he pulls away from Blaine, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. Leaning closer, Kurt smears some of the eyeliner around Blaine’s eyes, “You ready for tonight?”

“Fuck yeah,” Blaine breathes, his breath ghosting over Kurt’s fingers. Kurt moves even closer, fingertips dancing along Blaine’s cheek bones, their lips barely touching.

Kurt can feel the _puff, puff, puff_ of Blaine’s breath against his own lips. He can feel the way Blaine’s eyelashes are fluttering against his cheekbones. Can feel the way-

The door opens with a burst of energy and a muffled yell as Finn backs out of the room. Kurt just huffs out a laugh because, god, Finn does this every week. Blaine groans, flopping back onto the bed muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘cockblock.’ Kurt laughs as he gets up, putting the eyeliner back on his dresser before heading downstairs for dinner.

 

 

 

 

**then.**

After a car journey of stilted conversation, Kurt somehow found himself sitting outside the venue in Columbus on the stone, cold floor tracing black eyeliner around Blaine Anderson’s eyes.

“Favourite song?” He asked.

“Of Bright Eyes or anyone?” Blaine replied, a smile forming on his lips.

“Don’t blink or it’ll fuck up. And Bright Eyes.”

“Definitely ‘We Are Nowhere And it’s Now’,” Blaine smiled as he hummed the tune.

Kurt nodded approvingly, “I prefer Classic Cars though. They’d better play it tonight.”

“Well, whatever they play, they’re going to be so fucking amazing,” Blaine said, “You’d better me making me look fucking hot, Hummel.”

“I am. Trust me,” Kurt replies, looking directly into the golden haze of Blaine’s eyes.

And they sit there as they put eyeliner, eye shadow around each others eyes. Words don’t need to be said as they bask in each others presence, sharing small smiles between them.

But as the clock hits 7, when they’ve got their tickets out, ready to go in, Blaine pulls out a couple of pots of glitter from his back pocket and pour it all over Kurt’s head.

His first reaction is to narrow his eyes, but Kurt sees the glint in Blaine’s eyes and instead laughs with a playful ‘fuck you’ and snatches another pot from Blaine’s grasp and tips the contents into Blaine’s black curls, catching on his eyelashes and sticking to his cheekbones. 

Kurt’s never wanted to kiss anyone more.

 

 

 

 

**now.**

“So you boys got another show tonight?” Burt says, eyeing the make-up around both his son’s and Blaine’s eyes.

Blaine nods his head eagerly, mouth full of lasagne.

“I already told you, dad,” Kurt says, exasperated, “San and Quinn are coming to pick us up at 6.”

“Ok, don’t ge-”

“Get back to late,” Blaine cuts in, smirking, “Don’t drink. We know, Burt.”

Rolling his eyes, Burt smiles at Blaine, “Glad you remember. You staying here tonight, Anderson?”

Blaine looks back at Kurt, unsure, “I don’t know?”

Kurt just shrugs his shoulders as if to say ‘it’s up to you.’

Blaine nods, looking back to Burt, “Yeah, I will do, thanks Burt.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

“Can I come tonight?” Finn asks, mouth full of food.

Kurt and Blaine both turn to look at him in confusion, “Sure? But you’ll have to make your own way there. We don’t have enough room in the car.”

“Cool, cool,” Finn replies before going back to his food.

 

 

 

 

**then.**

Soon enough, they’re in the arena, not too far from the front but right in the crowd and Kurt’s loving it already. He can feel the excitement thrumming through the air, the people gradually moving forwards towards the front and Blaine. Blaine who’s standing squashed up next to Kurt but just slightly in front so that he’s almost leaning against Kurt.

Looking at the time, he notices that it’s almost time for the band to come on and he leans in close to Blaine and whispers in his ear, “Not long now, you excited?”

“Fucking hell, man, I just want it to start already.”

Kurt laughs, just as the lights change and the background music turns off. People are screaming and shouting all around him and all Kurt can do is smile as one by one, the band members come on and the whole crowd pushes forward and there’s nothing Kurt can do but go with it but he smiles and cheers because, holy fuck, this is always his favourite part.

 

_Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe. There's people always dying, trying to keep 'em alive_

 

 

 

 

**now.**

“Looks like it’s going to be a good turnout tonight,” Quinn says to Kurt who’s watching Blaine as he carries all of their equipment onto the stage.

Kurt hums in agreement, downing the last of his vodka and coke. Putting his empty glass down on the sticky table next to him, Kurt pulls his eyes away from Blaine and looks back at Quinn.

“Where the fuck is Santana?” Kurt asks, noticing that once again his bandmate has gone awol.

Quinn smirks, “Brittany showed up...”

Kurt huffs in annoyance, rolling his eyes, “Jesus christ. We’re going on in, what, 10 minutes?” He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing the coloured strands out of his eyes, “You go look for San and I’ll help Blaine finish setting up.”

“You sure _that’s_ a good idea?”

“Whatever, Q. Go find San,” he says, pushing himself off of the table he’s leaning on and walking over to Blaine.

“Need any help, B?” Kurt asks, putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder from where he’s crouched down, plugging the amps in.

“Nah,” Blaine replies, looking up at Kurt, “I think I’m almost done. You just go get yourself prettied up and get your guitar ready.”

“Fuck you,” Kurt says, laughing as he walks away to get himself ready for the show.

 

 

 

**then.**

Sometime between the end of the set and the encore, Blaine, who has somehow managed to squeeze himself in front of Kurt, turns around so that’s he’s face to face with Kurt. He blinks, eyelashes fluttering as the glitter on his face falls onto his cheeks. Breathless with adrenaline, Blaine reaches into his pocket and pulls out their last pot of glitter.

“Fuck you, Anderson,” Kurt says, breathlessly, his words lost in the crowd as they chant and cheer for the encore. Glitter rains down on them both just as the lights go down and music begins playing again.

Kurt glances towards the stage and smiles, but quickly looks back at Blaine, who’s sweaty with eyeliner running down his face as the glitter shines all over his face and Kurt thinks, _I don’t want to let him go._

But, soon enough, Blaine turns back to face the stage, back flush against Kurt’s chest as they move to the music together. Kurt rests his hands on Blaine’s waist, knowing that he can do this here. No-one cares, no-one notices because they’re too involved in the music to worry about what others are doing.

Kurt closes his eyes as he listens to the music playing and feels the crowd moving as one around him. Kurt wishes that he could just do this for the rest of his life.

_The end of paralysis, I was a statuette,  now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench, and when I press the keys, it all gets reversed, the sound of loneliness makes me happier._

 

 

 

 

**now.**

During the show, with sweat pouring down his face, Kurt will look over at Blaine and find his gaze mid-song. He’ll feel his breath catch as he realises that he’s _here_ and they’re actually doing this; doing what he loves.

As Blaine looks away from him, Kurt will be so very grateful that they are there and that people are listening because this is how he is voicing himself. This is how he is getting his words out into the world.

 

 

 

 

**then.**

They both stumble out of the doors, the cold air hitting them in the face but they don’t care - still high off the energy of the concert.

Kurt’s ranting about the performance; how wonderful the set was and how beautiful the songs were. Blaine smiles as he walks along next to Kurt, their hands brushing against each others as they walk.

“Hey, Kurt,” Blaine says, stopping Kurt in the middle of talking, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

_(For everything)._ “For tonight.”

 

 

 

 

**now.**

After the show, Quinn and Kurt find themselves sprawled on the hood of Santana’s mom’s car flicking ash from their cigarettes onto the dirty sidewalk outside the bar. They fell into this routine sometime after their first few gigs – Kurt let Blaine do the heavy lifting after he delicately packed up his guitar and laid it lovingly on the passenger seat, and Quinn was usually just mysteriously AWOL after shows. That left Blaine and Santana to wrestle the drum kit into the box and do the walk of shame through the bar lugging it behind them, where they were usually either greeted with dollar bills tucked inside shirts (usually Santana – one memorable occasion Blaine) or drinks to the face (more often Blaine. He didn’t want to talk about it.)

It’s only when Kurt looks up from the ground to say something to Quinn that he notices the approaching figures of Finn and Rachel. He rolls his eyes at Quinn, who smirks as he slides off the car and puts the cigarette out with the toe of his buckled boot. 

“Kurt!” Rachel calls out, and she’s clapping her hands in a way that would make anyone who didn’t know her assume she’d had one too many wine coolers; but Kurt has the pleasure of knowing that, no, that’s just Rachel, and yes, she’s always like that.

“What do you want, Berry?” He asks, trying his very best not to sound patronising whilst shooting Finn exasperated looks.

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that you put on a very good performance tonight,” she began, “Surprisingly, I enjoyed myself.”

“Uh huh,” Kurt says, pushing himself off of the car he’s leaning on, “What do you _want_ , Berry?”

“Oh, well, I- um,” Rachel says, looking nervously towards Finn.

Quinn sighs, “Just spit it out, Berry. We know you came here for a reason.”

“We-” Finn’s cough cuts her off as he looks very pointedly at her as if to say he had nothing to do with this, “Okay, _I_ was wondering if you would consider joining glee club.”

Quinn and Kurt look at each other instantly before bursting out with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Blaine asks as he places what  seems to be the last of their equipment in the boot of the car.

“They want us to join their glee club,” Quinn says to Blaine, humour still in her voice as she turns back to Rachel, “You want _us_ to join your precious _glee club_? Why?”

Rachel looks between them, uncomfortable, “We need more members and I know that you can all sing extremely well- especially Blaine- so you would help us make our way to becoming national winners.”

“Well,” Kurt begins, shooting yet another dirty look towards his step-brother, “I would use the excuse of already being in a band and not having enough time to juggle both this and glee club, but honestly, I’m really not interested in joining your club.”

“Hey,” Blaine says, walking up next to Kurt and brushing a hand along his shoulder blades, “No need to be mean, huh. They are fans, after all.” Kurt just rolls his eyes at Blaine.

Rachel huffs and stands up straighter, an air of confidence around her, “Well, if you’re not interested I won’t bother wasting any more of my time. See you around.”

She turns on her heels and storms off, barging into Santana’s shoulder on her way out.

Kurt turns to Finn as he steals the just lit cigarette dangling from Blaine’s lips and takes a drag, “I’ll see you at home, Finn.”

“Kurt, I-”

“ _I’ll see you at home, Finn,_ ” Kurt repeats before turning away from him to ask the others if they were all ready to go.

Finn walks away with a frown on his face to catch up with Rachel and make sure that she isn’t too upset. He didn’t want to have to deal with an upset or angry Rachel Berry tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

**then.**

When they finally start their journey back home on the freeway, windows rolled down and Bright Eyes blasting through the speakers, the two boys singing their hearts out. It’s not until the CD has finished that they talk to each other.

“I want to do that,” Blaine says, playing with the iPod so that he can put another album on.

Kurt furrows his eyebrows, “Do what?”

“Be in a band. Stand in front all of those people with my best friends and sing my heart out. I want to write music. I want to help people. I want to do it all.”

Looking over at Blaine, Kurt smiles, “There’s nothing stopping you.”

 

 

 

 

**now.**

When they finally get back to Kurt’s house, hours after their gig had ended with glitter streaked down their faces and in their hair and smudged eyeliner, they’re slightly drunk and a bit high but after all this time they know exactly how to conceal it from Kurt’s family. An averted gaze and small yawns keep them out of trouble as they go straight up to Kurt’s room.

Blaine thumps down on the bed, toeing his shoes off before wriggling out of  his jeans and lays there with his eyes closed. Kurt eyes him appreciatively - the stretch of the shirt; tight against his stomach,  and the way his eyelashes fan against his cheeks- before grabbing the make-up wipes off of his desk.

Laying down on his stomach next to Blaine, Kurt leans over slightly and rests his chin on Blaine’s chest so he can wipe the makeup off of Blaine’s eyes. His eyelids flutter as the cool cloth touches his cheeks and he looks down at Kurt with his heavy eyes.

Kurt shows his a warm smile as he gets the last of the glitter and eyeliner off of his face and quickly wipes the makeup off of his own face. Throwing the wipe in the general direction of the bin, Kurt takes his own shoes and jeans off before settling down next to Blaine.

Legs tangled and a heavy arm draped over Blaine’s waist, the two boys lay in the dark, content to stay silent because no words need to be said as they gradually drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from oh, calamity! by all time low  
> songs: 
> 
> four winds- bright eyes  
> poison oak- bright eyes
> 
> thanks to leia for a bit of the writing in there too *w* and celine for betaing uwu


End file.
